zoe

While reading in John 1 this morning, I felt the Lord quicken my heart over verse 4:

In him was life, and that life was the light of men.

In particular, I felt the Holy Spirit settling over the words "life" and "light." Strong's concordance says life here (zoe) means, "of the absolute fullness of life; life real and genuine; a life active and vigorous, devoted to God, and blessed." This is a different kind of life than the one used in Mark 3:4--"psyche"--which refers more to the mortal life of all things, the process that distinguishes between an elephant and a boulder.

We can be alive without being alive. Anyone whose eyes have flitted open on a gray November morning and half-prayed to a corner of the ceiling, "God, I can't face another day" without expecting an answer knows this. It manifests in weak knees and thumping hearts when we've felt too heartsick to eat for a few days. It shows up when we avoid our friends for our televisions and fitfully daydream about inventing a switch hard-wired into our brains that would turn off all thoughts so we could force ourselves to sleep. It surfaces in a heavy, drugged feeling when we cannot seem to differentiate between dreams and reality.

Simply functioning from one day to another is not the life that is God. Jesus said in John 14:6 that He is the way, truth, and the life (zoe)--full, vigorous, beautiful life that transcends mere existence.

The word used for light (phos) in John 1:4 has many translations, but the one that I liked best was, "that which is exposed to the view of all, openly, publicly." The beauty of Jesus' life was for
all to see. He did not hide His freedom with the Father; nor did He share it with only a select group. The people who walked in darkness saw a great light.

In His kindness, God was not content for us to live a life bound to striving. He came that we might have zoe and have it fully. He came that we might have Himself. Today is the Jewish feast of Passover, and tomorrow marks the anniversary of Jesus' death (He died on Wednesday, was in the ground three days, and rose again on the first day of the week). Only God could bring life out of death and use sacrifice to bring fullness for all. The life He gave transcends momentary emotions. There will always be heartaches, seasons in the valley, flights into the desert; but
they are temporary. God glories in restoration, and when He comes to you, He brings with Him fullness of joy.

Father, I bless my friends to delight in Your fullness. You promised we would win if we did not lose heart. May we walk according to Hebrews 10:35-37 and Galatians 6:9, never giving up, never losing faith. May we have eyes opened to the "small" miracles that take place every day. May we never mistake the purpose of prayer as the right to tell You what to do. You are sovereign and Your ways are right. Give us the grace today to say, "not my will but Yours,"
hands that rush to give, mouths opened wide to sing Your praises, and hearts that embrace love and reject offense. In Jesus' beautiful name....

unchanging

I've spent hours staring at a brick wall. Sometimes days....even years. The lesson God began teaching me over a year ago continues to come back around--the quiet voice that answers, "here I am" in the middle of so much noise and confusion still echoes in my heart when I expect it least.

I was reading in Psalm 46 this morning and God began opening my heart to the truth of verses 1 and 2 again. They've been some of my favorite verses ever since GT and the Halo Express helped me memorize them over a decade ago by putting them to music on a cassette tape geared toward children learning to face their fear. How like Him to speak yet again through something that has become so familiar, right?

I've started a log where I scribble down the verses that stand out to me when I'm reading the Word. Sometimes the Holy Spirit will lead me through a particular theme in what seems to be a random trek in the Word. The words that stuck out to me in Psalm 46:2 were "be removed":

"1 God is our refuge and strength,

A very present help in trouble.

2 Therefore we will not fear,

Even though the earth be removed,

And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the
sea;" ~Psalm 46:1-2 (my emphasis added)

I went back to the original Hebrew and found that this word is "muwr" which literally translates "to change, exchange, alter." So often I thought the psalmist was speaking of the obliteration of the world, when, in reality, he was speaking of the transient nature of circumstances.

The earth will one day be purged with fire before God descends to establish His heavenly city on the earth and dwell with us, but this is an exchange (His glory for our "reality"), not a termination of the world. What this reiterates, then, is the temporal nature of what seems so concrete to us. Stone walls and circumstances--they are flimsy in comparison to God, our refuge and strength.

Psalm 46:1 says that God is a very present--m@'od matsa'--help when we are distressed. M@'od means: exceedingly, much, might, force, and abundant. Matsa' means: to be found, to be encountered. What does this mean? Simply that, in contrast to our transient circumstances, our God is unchanging and steady, and in our distress, He is waiting to be found and encountered with might and abundance. His Presence is there for us to experience when things are going well, but He shows up excessively when His children are distressed.

I'm learning that the times I feel Him the least are the times He's most present and most active. I've come full-circle in life, and already have shed almost as many tears of gratitude and joy as I did of desolation. When we seek Him, He becomes our exceeding great reward, and the delight when we "find" Him far outweighs the grief of the journey.

Press on, friends. He's worth it.

to the streets, i say!

Ah, February 14. It stirs up so many emotions... A few years ago when I was a first-year undergraduate, I "observed" by wearing a black shirt to classes. A year or two later, I'd progressed to wearing all black. I turned my computer settings to all black and gray (down to my instant messenger away message). My sister-in-law and brother teamed up to give me an anti-Valentine's day gift--my candy and squishy black pillow nestled safely inside a wedding gift bag from Target that spelled out "I Do" in rhinestones. My quick-witted sister-in-law grabbed a black pen and scribbled "n't" at the end so that my gift bag proudly read, "I Don't!"

Shortly after, I decided that it was better to protest the holiday by ignoring altogether. To prove I was ignoring it, I made sure to wear some random non-boycott but non-Valentine color....orange? Sure! That works! Valentine's Day? Today? Oh, I hadn't noticed...

Let me hasten to say that none of this stemmed from any latent morbidity or dark fascination. It was just fun to go against tradition and roll my eyes at the "schmaltzy, couples-geared, over-commercialized Hallmark holiday."

The past couple of years have been a little different, though. I've encountered a depth in the love of God that I thought I understood--the love I would have told you at the time that I knew I had. In ten years I will probably look back on myself and say the same thing about now. But I learned some things about love that have changed my paradigm a little:

1. God is love, therefore He alone gets to define love. Anyone who tells you that love is less than "arms wide open, heart exposed, bleeding" is peddling a counterfeit version of what love is all about.

2. God's nature is to pursue. There's a whole argument about whether the girl or the guy should have to make the first move (or most of the first moves) in a romantic relationship; without going into that, let me just say that love (God) pursues....and pursues....and pursues...over, and over, and over, and over, and over again. Love chases with a bruised and punched face, mocking spit running down its cheeks, blood springing from a broken heart staining its clothes.

3. God gives things just because He loves to give, not because we deserve it and not because it looks or feels good. He doesn't wait for there to be any joy in the idea of loving us. He loves because He can't not love. Love personified is chasing you down.

4. The greatest human expression of love is encountering the scent of God in the secret place and running it to the streets.

And that's my point. We live in a love-starved world of people desperate to hear that they matter to someone. As believers, we epitomize a colossal selfishness when we don't talk about love on Valentine's Day, when we have the greatest love there is.

Don't get me wrong--I will probably always be "that girl" who'd rather throw a random costume party for her single friends (or "non-observing" couple friends) on February 14th weekend. But I'm not making the mistake of ignoring or protesting anymore. The kind of love that has touched me so deeply over the past couple of years is too precious to hoard.

May the love of God be with you all.

God's song

I heard God singing to me in our house of prayer set tonight:

____________________

"How long? How long?
I long! I long for you!"
Hear the cry of the bridegroom God:
"How long? How long?
I long! I long for you!"

He's calling me higher still.
He's calling me deeper still.
Further up and further in.
He's making a way for me
To taste the feast of love.

But how many times I've turned away;
Denied the very tears of God.

"How long? How long?
I long! I long for you!"
Can you hear the cry of the bridegroom God?
"How long? How long?
I long! I long for you...."

purpose

Life. Biological clocks. Career pressures. Trying to get ahead. Church business. Hanging out with friends. Grocery shopping. Buying a house. Finding that perfect pair of jeans. Day-dreaming about that one special person. Going to weddings. Planning weddings. Visiting people in hospitals. Getting hurt feelings. Forgiving those who hurt us. Having children. Baking birthday cakes. Potty-training....the dog. Longing for vacations. Cramming as many people as possible into Christmas. Realizing other people can't make you happy. Writing terrible, 3:00 a.m. poetry. Dyeing your hair. Planting a garden. Eating half-a-can of cake icing with a spoon. Getting sick of regimenting life. Going back to school. Catching up on your favorite television show. Worrying about aging parents/grandparents/aunts/uncles/friends. Crying in the shower so nobody else can hear. Road trips. Church conferences. Youth retreats. Teaching Sunday school. Laughing at newspaper comics.

Sometimes in the busyness of life, we lose focus. I'm grateful for the way God always brings back perspective.

"There's gonna be a wedding; it's the reason that I'm living---to marry the Lamb." ~Tim Reimherr, "More than Ashes"

--

just standing

I'm not sure I'm going to be able to say all this the way I want to say it. Sometimes I wish words didn't seem to shrink so much when we try to express what we feel.

I feel it most when I shut my eyes. It's a mix of contentment and tiredness--similar to what I feel at the end of a two hour worship service when I know I've pushed as deep into God as my weak flesh will allow for that time. Also mixed in is a tinge of accomplishment, like I feel when I've finished folding three loads of laundry, cooked dinner, and cleaned my home. And there's a small sense of emptiness, too, like the slow ebbing of adrenaline when a roller coaster slowly rolls back to the platform and part of your body is asking you, "Now what?"

It's a lost sort of found feeling, a latent excitement, a lethargic energy, a directed purpose.

It's my favorite place to be.

This is the feeling I have when I hear most clearly from God. It comes when I've finally pushed through all the external "stuff" and connect with His heart--raw, imperfect....real. He reminds me that I don't have to "do" anything when I come to Him; I can simply rest in His presence, in the throne room of the Almighty, seated with His Son, tucked under His care.

I fail a lot in that I often mentally diminish the power of God working in my life. He often allows painful situations to lag on for what seems like eternity in our lives because He's teaching us perseverance and growing character in our lives. We cannot get so caught up in the process that we forget the purpose. We cannot allow His patience to distort our perception of His strength, His power, His ability to move on behalf of those of us who love Him desperately.

I love this emotional place. I love it when He reminds me that He's still God, He's still in control, and He still has a plan. I walk through my day feeling clean and mended. This is casting our cares. This is the result of observing Sabbath with Him.

Stand before His throne and be confident in who you are to Him. He's God, and He does all things well.

ice house

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.
--William Shakespeare, Act IV, Scene 1, The Merchant of Venice

I’m Jonah under the shade tree, alone and miserable in my self-righteous diatribe. I’m the older brother of the prodigal son, hurt and angry that You promote humility over pride-laced constancy. I lay my complaint before You as judge and You weigh hearts, motives, purposes and desires in eternity past and present before rendering mercy. My clamoring flesh chafes under Your wisdom. I am not asking for justice, but for judgment. This mirror-me lurks just beneath the surface, teasing the corners of my dreams and waltzing with every unattended thought. This is the abhorrence waiting for me in every reflected space.

The questions scream on, erecting panes of bitter glass in a dome around me. Why did He...? How could He...? And the zenith—a delicate filigreed deception that shadows all light filtering through to my heart, Don’t you know He’s forgotten all about you? Even worse than the insidious claim that You are withholding from me is this assertion of indifference. At least withholding requires some emotion. Here, in this climate-controlled ice-house, my world is pristine and untouched.

That is, until a falling cross knifes through the haze, and suddenly I’m caught up in a bloodbath—heat, disorder, desire and passion all directed toward me. And there You are, utterly uncontrollable and ignoring my terror at feeling things again, one hand armed with hope and the other brimming over with love. Love. A love that is there solely for my benefit without expecting anything in return. A love whose face took on its most definite shape in the height of rage and the depth of grief. What other love would lash punishment onto itself to spare me? I long for something that is already in my hands.

Mercy grows from a love devoid of self. My own human jealousy struggles that You feel this way for everyone because I have yet to grasp that personal love does not diminish in the face of corporate love. Tune my heart to know the height and depth of Your obsession with me, that I may too hold fast to a lens of mercy.

hope

yesterday afternoon found me chatting with a friend who's recently been going through a tough time. for a month, it's seemed as though she's been running full tilt into a stone wall in her prayers, with no discernible change in her circumstances. she said something that struck my heart, if for no other reason than that i've been there myself so many times. "it would be easier if i just had some hope of things changing, but i don't."

hope. it's almost a double-edged sword. hope for something (or in something) can motivate us to face another day when a broken heart would try to immobilize us. a hope that comes from God sparks life. however, we also set ourselves up for a season of crushing when we misplace our hope.

i've often thought Romans 5:5 didn't always ring entirely true. any woman whose doctor has nixed her dreams of having a child knows that hope deferred makes the heart sick. that for which we hope most earnestly also has the power to disappoint us most. what do we say when hope does disappoint--when the rain drenches us despite our speaking to the storm and we are left praying, "Jesus....i did what You said. now what?"

the king james version of romans 5:5 reads that hope does not make us ashamed. the greek word used here is kataischynō, meaning to "dishonour, disgrace, to put to shame, make ashamed." there is a world of difference between disappointment and disgrace. i'm disappointed when the company discontinues my favorite brand of lipstick, or when my soccer team fails to win one of their games. disappointment covers a spectrum of emotions, all the way up to heartbreak and depression. it is no minor emotion.

however, disgrace--shame--takes it further. disgrace can mark a person in a way that disappointment never does. it reflects back on the character of the person. one who is disgraced cannot separate himself or herself from the specific circumstance. while disappointment cuts, disgrace brands.

i love the final "thought" that strong's interpretation of the original greek gives. it says: "one is said to be put to shame who suffers a repulse, or whom some hope has deceived" (my emphasis added). hope can blind and deceive us--but the hope that is from God does not. this is what paul was saying. hope that springs out of trial for the cause of Christ does not disgrace us because God's hope is not deceptive, and because He overwhelms us with His love through the Holy Spirit to take the sting out of any disappointment we may face.

i *want* to spend time with You, Jesus, but my world's upside down

just about anyone familiar with ihop in general and dana candler's teachings specifically is familiar with the story of mary of bethany. mary was the sister of lazarus who chose to sit at the feet of Jesus while her sister, martha, stressed out in the kitchen. mary poured out her life and her inheritance to wash Jesus' feet at dinner one night.

so often, we hold mary up as the paragon--the one we want to be like. we compare the sisters and find that Jesus (gently) rebuked martha and told her mary's choice to sit with Him was best in luke 10. mary was the more spiritual one.

the problem is, most of the time i've felt that i've had more in common with martha. don't get me wrong--i love spending hours in the Word and in prayer, listening to the song of the Lord over my life. however, when i sit down to spend time with Him, the enemy immediately floods my mind with the dishes i need to wash, the sheets i should probably change, the laundry that's piling up, that function at the church for which i need to bake cookies, and the fact that i need to take my car to get the oil changed. shouldn't spending time in the secret place be something i always want to do? is it really supposed to take that much effort?

the truth is, our flesh is always going to fight to maintain the discipline of a "quiet time" walk. it may be easier in some seasons than in others, but a walk with God--like any other relationship--takes effort, dedication, and work.

last night i was reading about mary and martha in john 11, and felt a tugging at my heart. Jesus and His disciples traveled to bethany because lazarus had died. although the sisters had called for Jesus to come earlier before lazarus died, Jesus purposefully waited so that His disciples would see His miracle and believe in Him. when they approached the home, both sisters ran out to greet Jesus at different times with the same reproach: "Lord, if You'd only been here, lazarus would still be alive."

what truly blessed me, though, is that while mary's plea tugged at Jesus' emotions and moved His heart, martha received the revelation.

Now Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him, but Mary was sitting in the house. Now Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to Him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?” She said to Him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.” ~John 11:20-27

mary knew the Lord and had spent time with Him, and yet martha was the one who got to make the statement of faith. when peter made this same declaration in matthew 16, Jesus pronounced a blessing over him and called him a rock. Jesus loved martha. He wasn't comparing her to mary's standard of intimacy with Him. He didn't love mary better, even though mary prioritized time at His feet. no--He had revelation for martha too, even as encumbered as she was with running a home. and the revelation that He gave martha was something that came straight from the heart of the Father.

i don't always get it right. sometimes i think i have the heart of a mary, but the schedule of a martha. i feel pulled in fifteen different directions--spread so thinly that the cracks show through the veneer. and that's okay; He rates me on His standard for my life, not on someone else's.

get it all out

have you ever felt like you were "too much"--like you're saul standing at least a foot taller than the crowd around you and trying desperately to hide? i often think we've bought into this concept of what a Christian should be. we package relationship with Jesus in a neat little box and then tell ourselves that we should squelch anything that might threaten to spill over the sides. we tell ourselves that if we're not calm and controlled, we're not operating in the fruit of self-control; and to an extent, this is true.

sometimes i feel like i'm this fractured person. while i love order, quiet, and a good book, i also love dancing in worship and shouting with laughter when i'm with my friends. people have commented on the grace with which i carry myself ever since i was a little girl, and yet i routinely walk into walls and trip over things that aren't there. i like dogs, but don't want one; i appreciate vivid colors, but mostly wear black; and i have essentially no athletic stamina, but exult in the feeling of the wind in my face.

the life of king david blesses me. he was just so very human, so utterly ordinary, so unfettered in his emotions. that last one is my favorite--he was a man given to passion, an emotional roller coaster. often, he would run the full gamut of emotions in a single psalm, going from begging God to rescue him, to reproaching himself for doubting, to speaking forth his confidence in the goodness of God. he carried authority, fought bravely, danced with wild abandon, and cried out in anguish. and God liked him. even beyond loving him (something we often devalue--afterall, doesn't God have to love us?), God liked being with him. He never chastised david for being "too much." david's life was wild, messy and unrestrained, and God liked it that way.

i'm firmly convinced that God likes drama. history shows us that He has a record leaving things until the last minute to prove Himself. just ask the israelites trapped at the red sea. messiness doesn't scare Him.

it scares us.

we walk in and try to suppress emotions--like the priest rebuking hannah when she was mourning before the Lord. "there, there--hush now. everything will be alright."

and yes, it's good to practice self-control. we cannot be a people ruled by our emotions, who come and go on a whim. paul tells us that the race we run is one of endurance and steadiness. if i run away from conflict when my emotions dictate, i never grow. but at the same time, i'm learning that God doesn't try to hush me when i run to Him in pain. i used to think that was cruel. what loving God would watch me shake in grief without trying to stop me? i'm finding that it's the most loving of all. He lets me purge all the poison in the emotional wound before bringing healing, like a loving father rinsing the dirt out of a cut before applying the band-aid. i can cry, scream, laugh, wail, shout, or groan until my soul is satisfied without Him wandering off to find something else to do. no matter the length or the volume, He's there, and He's not intimidated.

as cliched as it sounds, my point is this--take it to Jesus. david gave praises to God because He carries our burdens every day. He didn't fashion us to be pack-horses, weighed down by all the "stuff" that comes along. He's the only one whose shoulders are broad enough to carry that. and He doesn't mind a messy transfer. after all, Jesus tasted the heart of anguish in a blood-soaked, lacerated death by choice.